by Kc Wheeler
I flicked through a couple more photos of Missy and I; one of me learning to trot, my legs so far forward that my foot touched her shoulder; and one of us standing between two chestnut ponies mounted by Deanna and Kirsty, two girls who attended riding lessons with me.
The next image showed me at my first horse show. I was eight-years-old here and had moved onto a more advanced pony named Tiger. Tiger was a truly stunning animal. He was part Arab and had an elegant, dished head with a huge white diamond beneath his forelock. Lean and athletically built, he was a picture of health, his bay coat forever shinning in the sunlight.
This was a picture-perfect photo. Unlike Missy, his ears were forward and his bright alert eyes were looking directly at the camera. He had a neck full of ribbons. I sat with the same happy grin I had in the photo of Missy. I remembered feeling so pleased with myself.
I continued to flick through the album, stopping to study showjumping images. Unfortunately, Mum was my regular photographer and it was rare that she managed to take an image at the peak of the jump. Instead, I flicked through photograph after photograph of Tiger a stride before take-off, and a stride after landing.
I'd started showjumping on Tiger and discovered I absolutely loved to jump. At every riding lesson I'd ask, "Can we jump today?"
I was always disappointed when Mel said, "Dressage is the base to good jumping," and we had a straight dressage lesson instead.
I finally reached an image of Gypsy. She stood grazing at Ridgewood stables behind a wire fence. Leaning against the fence stood a large cardboard sign; it read, "Happy Birthday, meet Gypsy."
I smiled at the memory. I remembered feeling confused. I didn't dare hope she was for me until Dad confirmed it. "It's not every day you get a horse for your birthday, is it?" he'd laughed.
I had burst into tears, tears of pure joy. I'd hugged both of my parents and then rushed to the paddock to hug Gypsy who had at first seemed taken aback. Still, she stood there quietly as I cried into her mane. Just as I finally managed to stop the happy tears, she'd rested her head affectionately on my shoulder and I had found a new river to cry.
I came to a professionally taken image of Gypsy and I showjumping together for the first time. The fence was only 80 centimetres, but Gypsy sailed above it a lot higher, her knees tucked tightly to her chest. Anybody could see the enjoyment jumping gave her in this image. Her dark eyes shone bright, searching for the next jump. Her ears were pricked forward.
You could vaguely see the smile beneath my helmet. My eyes were hidden behind black-rimmed glasses- Once or twice I'd come close to losing them in a jumping round and I was glad I wore contacts now. I remembered I was having the time of my life. I had been so nervous prior, and Gypsy had been sure to take away any doubt from the moment we entered the ring. Though forward and excited beneath me, she waited patiently for the cue to canter. She did not rush on approach, nor fight me as some showjumping horses do. Respectful and trusting of me, she gave me a safe, tidy round to finish off in third place.
It was after midnight. I forced myself to shut the album, sliding it carefully back under my bed. I switched off the bedside lamp and lay on my back. A white strip of light shone through the window and danced across the ceiling. All was still and quiet. I closed my eyes and silently willed sleep to come.
When fifteen minutes later I was still wide-awake, I climbed out of bed and switched on the light. I picked todays clothes up from off the floor and pulled them on. I then headed down the stairs, walking lightly on my feet, careful not to wake anybody. I stopped at the front door to step into my gumboots. Ridgewood stables was fortunately just a five-minute drive away, so I found myself with Gypsy very quickly.
It was a mild night. The air was still and thousands of stars dotted the dark sky, promising the sun for tomorrow. Not a sound was to be heard; I felt alone in the world; just me and the horses.
Bugs stood alert, staring at me through the darkness. He snorted as I approached, his body tense and ready to flee. I spoke softly to him and instantly he relaxed with recognition and started to graze. While Bugs had been very surprised to see somebody at this hour, Gypsy didn't act fazed. She lay, her legs tucked beneath her. She nickered softly as I sat down cross-legged beside her in the dampened grass.
"Hey girl. I couldn't sleep," I whispered, gently stroking her thick white blaze.
Gypsy sighed and lowered her head into my lap, warming me both inside and out. I was so content with Gypsy, beneath the stars, surrounded by her sweet, horsey scent. I didn't know how long I sat there. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. I was overwhelmed with a new sense of peace and when I went back to bed, I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Chapter Four
The 17th finally arrived and both horses had been performing brilliantly on the lead up to it. Full of excitement, I slid out of bed as soon as my alarm went off at 7am. I happily tugged open the curtains.
And groaned in disappointment.
Dark, menacing clouds filled the sky. A light drizzle came down, disappearing into the mist that hovered above the ground. The trees, their leaves glistening with rain drops, swayed gently in the slight breeze. The weather forecast had stated sunshine with light cloud and winds forming in the evening.
How unlucky.
I pulled the curtains shut again, and stared glumly at the peach coloured material. I knew that Showjumping Champs would still go ahead. It would take incredibly severe weather for it to be canceled, but it meant I'd have to put studs in Gypsy's shoes for extra grip, and ride slowly and very carefully. By the time my round starts, the ground will be muddy and chopped up, I thought unhappily.
I pulled on white jodhpurs, then an older pair over top to keep the first pair clean until my showjumping round. I then trudged down the stairs and into the empty kitchen. Everybody was still in bed. I was meeting Lucy and her dad, Steve, at Ridgewood stables. Using his truck and their old float, Steve would tow us to the showgrounds. My parents and Natasha were coming later to watch my round.
I grabbed a blueberry muffin and headed out the door where I was greeted with a cold chill. I then double checked I had everything I needed in my car. I'd bought home my horse gear for oiling and cleaning last night after bathing and grooming Gypsy to perfection.
Lucy and her dad were already at Ridgewood stables when I arrived. Lucy was heading to the stables where the horses slept last night, two lead ropes in her hands. I hurried over to her.
"Hey!" Lucy greeted me. She handed me a lead rope for Gypsy. "It's a shame about the weather, huh?"
"Yes!" I cried. "I was so disappointed when I looked outside this morning."
"At least Showjumping Champs doesn't cancel very often. I don't think I could handle it if they canceled."
"I couldn't handle it either," I agreed. "We've been waiting for this day for so long."
Gypsy nickered happily when she saw me. She didn't appreciate being cooped up in a stable. Even in Winter she much preferred the freedom of the paddock; but she was always stabled to stay clean before competitions.
"Showjumping Champs today!" I told her. I snapped the lead rope to her halter and reached for her hay net to take to the showgrounds.
"Cut it out!" I heard Lucy growl angrily. She leaned against Bugs' chest, forcing him to back up. "He gets so pushy after he's been stabled!" Lucy mumbled. She walked forward again and Bugs bounced along beside her excitedly. Bugs really could be a handful at times.
Once my tack and the horses were loaded up, we were away on the one-hour journey.
"I feel like I've forgotten something," Lucy said thoughtfully five minutes later.
"Do you have your show gear?" I asked.
"Yes," Lucy said uncertainly.
"Saddle and bridle?"
"Tick."
"Saddle pad?"
"Tick."
"Studs?"
Lucy's face went pale.
"Don't worry, I packed you some just in case," Steve assure
d her. Lucy was lucky. Her dad rode up until he in was in his late twenties, so was extremely helpful and relatively educated on horses and riding.
"Oh yay, thanks Dad," Lucy said, the colour returning to her face. "I have hay for Bugs, jumping boots for his legs? Um? There's a bucket in the float for water. I have Bugs' breastplate and I think the martingale is still on it? It better be, he needs that," Lucy said frowning.
"Stop stressing," Steve grinned through the review mirror. "The only thing you've forgotten is your confidence."
"I'm definitely not feeling very confident," Lucy admitted.
"Bugs has been jumping so well though," I said.
Lucy closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. "It's not him I'm worried about."
The weather hadn't seemed to keep anyone away for the showgrounds were full of uncountable floats and horse trucks. I noticed Lucy's eyes widen with fear as she scanned her surroundings. But she bit her lip and said nothing. We pulled into an empty spot beside a big horse truck.
Then we realized who we were parked beside.
"No Dad! We have to move; we can't park here!" Lucy cried. "Can we leave?" she begged, panicked. "Please?"
Larissa sat texting in the front seat of her parent's truck, a new Holden Colorado. A groom in muck-out boots and a green rain jacket, was carefully plating the mane of her new Warmblood. I was unable to see his body due to his cover, but I was able to see he was a rich bay with a handsome face, and a long, well-muscled neck. He stood tall as I expected, even taller than Bugs.
"Don't be silly Lucy. This park is in a great spot." Steve said.
"But? but? Larissa!" she stammered, pointing.
"Oh. The girl you don't like," he said calmly. "Well, imagine how much more she'd hassle you if she realized she was able to drive you away from a perfect park." Steve smiled smugly and opened the driver's door. "Let's unload these horses."
Lucy looked at me in horror. I didn't particularly want to be parked next to Larissa either, but the look on Lucy's face was so mortified that I had to swallow a laugh. "Just ignore her," I said. "She's not worth worrying about."
Lucy's mouth dropped open like she couldn't believe what I'd said. Then she sighed. "Let's help Dad then."
Bugs came scrambling off the float and peered around, his eyes near popping out of their sockets as if he couldn't believe where he was. He let out a loud, shrill neigh. A husky neigh in the distance answered his call.
Gypsy who had been in a competitive environment many times before, slowly backed out from the float and gently pulled at the lead rope, asking to graze at the lush grass.
We tied the horses to the side of the float furthest from Larissa, and hung their hay-nets within their reach. Bugs took a quick mouthful and then stopped chewing, the hay strands hanging loosely from his mouth. He called out again, a high pitched noise that hurt my ears.
"Oh I just know he's going to be naughty today!" Lucy held both hands to her face, staring hard at her horse as he fidgeted on his feet.
"He's been to a few competitions now. He'll calm down." I assured her.
"Not a competition as big as this! There's three times the amount of people and horses than there was at our other shows."
Lucy did have a point. I saw bays and chestnuts all around- the most common horse colours. There was also a fair amount of greys and blacks, a handful of pinto horses, duns and palominos, and I spotted a couple of roans. A leopard-spot Appaloosa grazed across from us. There were horses so finely built they made Bugs looked heavy, and horses so heavily built they made Gypsy look fine.
Many people were already mounted and warming up for the lower classes. The heights for Showjumping Champs began at seventy-five centimetres. Some horses worked nicely on the bit while others bucked and pranced around, ignoring their rider's aids.
Laughter and chatter surrounded us completely. Horses called out and answered each other from all different directions. I could see why Bugs, and Lucy, were overwhelmed.
"You don't have to get on for a long-while yet. He has plenty of time to settle down," I said.
"And plenty of time for me to worry," Lucy added; but she forced a smile to her face. "I'll be proud of myself once it's over, and I'll be so glad I did it."
"Exactly!" I agreed, relieved to see her taking a more positive approach.
At that moment Larissa got out of the truck and strutted towards us confidently. "Well, he looks very stressed!" she commented, pointing at Bugs. "Are you sure you should be jumping him today?"
Lucy's face dropped.
I jumped to her defense. "He will be fine once Lucy's on!" I insisted.
"If you say so," Larissa replied doubtfully, a frown on her heavily made-up face. At that moment Bugs called out again, spinning his hind end into Gypsy. She half-heartedly lifted a back leg as warning, while continuing to graze. Larissa smirked.
"And you're STILL on that pony? Aren't you seventeen now?" she demanded.
Rules were that once a rider turned seventeen they were unable to competitively show-jump a pony, sized 14.2-hands-high and under, with the exception of pony club competitions.
"Gypsy isn't a pony. She's 15-hands-high," I told her, though I was sure she already knew.
"Right. Well she looks like a pony," Larissa spoke smugly. "Especially when you're on her."
"I fit her fine!" I argued defensively.
"You have long legs Adele. You should really sell that nag and look for something closer to sixteen-hands."
I scowled at her. I did have long legs, but Gypsy was wide with a large girth area, meaning my legs did not exceed her.
"Well, good luck!" Larissa enthused. "You're going to need it," she added, glancing once again at Bugs.
Lucy and I watched her wander away. Larissa waved to a girl who eagerly ran over to talk to her.
"She's right," Lucy muttered. "I'm going to do awful. Bugs is just too anxious today."
I sighed, annoyed that Larissa had ruined Lucy's new-found confidence. "Ignore her! You know she'll say anything to put you down; that's just what Larissa's like!"
"But look at him!" Lucy cried.
Bugs had been digging at the ground with his front hoof, making a large hole. Wet mud dripped down his foreleg.
I started to gasp; he was destroying public grounds. But I stopped myself. "Um," I thought for a minute. "I know!" I reached into the back of the truck for the feed I'd made Gypsy, tipping some of it into a blue bucket. "This might keep him quieter than the hay," I hoped.
To both of our relief, he began to eat, pulling his head from the bucket just occasionally to look around.
"Should we go over and wait until we can walk the course then?" Lucy asked. She pulled her jacket tighter around her. Wet, dark hair stuck to her face.
"Yes, let's go," I agreed.
Chapter Five
Luckily the course was set appropriately for the wet ground, wide with no technical angles or sharp turns required.
Lucy was expressing concern about the upright with a wooden box beneath it, painted like a brick wall. Lucy knew she needed to ride strongly and confidently into fences with fill; Bugs was still a little green and did tend to baulk at these fences. I was a little concerned about the double. It was set for two strides for a big horse. I couldn't decide whether to push Gypsy for a long stride, or whether to collect her up and pop in a third. I decided I'd see what other riders on smaller mounts did.
Bugs had finished his feed but calmed down immensely by the time we arrived back at the float. While still alert to his surroundings, he stood quietly, resting a hind leg.
Lucy gave him a scratch on his head. "Thank goodness you've calmed down."
After what felt like forever we were heading towards the practice jumps, Lucy mounted and me walking because it was too soon to bring Gypsy out.
"Relax," I told Lucy. She sat tense from nerves on Bugs' back. He danced beneath her, head held high. "He'll relax if you relax."
Lucy looked at me, her eye
s full of worry. Lucy had always been anxious at competitions, but today was the worst I'd seen her. Possibly both the poor weather and the new height were tipping her over the edge.
Steve was up ahead, speaking to one of the judges. He'd proven very helpful today, helping to groom, plat, and tack-up both horses.
The drizzle had eased off for now, but the dark sky promised more rain.
They were nearing the last of those competing in the 95 centimetres class, which meant Lucy would be on soon. "I'm going to go and warm up," she told me. She smiled faintly. "Maybe he'll calm down once we're actually doing something." Bugs didn't need any encouragement to trot; he took off like a Standardbred racing in harness.
I had a lot of time to spare. I turned to face the ring, staying on both feet, the grass too wet to take a seat. Steve walked up beside me. "How is Lucy doing?" he asked.
"She's pretty anxious," I admitted.
Steve nodded knowingly. "I might go and see how she's doing."
"Okay."
I watched a lean, grey horse pop cleanly around the course. His rider was well aware of the ground conditions and rode him accordingly. A few slick, skid marks led up to each jump, especially the wall jump- probably from horses skidding into refusal.
Wet, slippery mud.
I bit my lip, concerned. It was not the best day to be competing at a new height; I'd have to ride this course very, very carefully.
The next rider rode on too tight of a rein, causing her beautiful Arabian to fight for his head. She sat rigid. While holding him back, she also urged him forward with her spurs. The poor little horse was clearly very confused. He had no choice other than to leap into his fences. Without the freedom to use his head over the fence, he crashed down the top rail of the first jump. The rider responded to this by tightening her reins even further, causing the Arab to throw his head further back to avoid the pressure of her hands. Fighting her abruptly, he bounced into the next fence. Naturally, she held on tighter. Head to his chest, he plunged into the air in attempt to clear the fence. While his hind hoof hit the back pole, it miraculously managed to stay up.